Christmas in a Snowglobe
by Princess-Meru
Summary: What do you do on Christmas when snow is on the ground? Why, a snowball fight of course! This is a story of Harry's Christmas holidays.


Christmas in a Snowglobe

By Princess-Meru

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Happy Holidays. I'm Jewish myself, but I thought it would be appropriate to do something like this while there was still snow on the ground. Anyway, I hope you like it. It was kind of written on short notice, so any suggestions you might have as to how to fix it would be much appreciated. See if you can figure out how it earned that title and I'll give you a virtual cookie.

* * *

Gloves.

Where were those gloves?

Harry dove head first into his trunk, knowing full well that it wasn't full enough to cushion him should he fall to hard. There was snow out and he would get outside to enjoy it, head injuries be damned.

"Potter! Come on!" a first year's call could be heard faintly from Harry's position. He had to find those gloves!

They were Dudley's. They were ugly. They were uncomfortable. But they sure as hell would be better than nothing.

"My name is Matthew Milton."

Christmas holiday had finally arrived, thank heaven. Harry had already had a tough time passing the days without his friends, but finding them all being absent for the first snow of the season was just miserable.

"Do you want to have a snowball fight? The snow looks thick enough."

He didn't even recognize the boy as a Slytherin, just a potential playmate for the day. After all, they wouldn't be wearing their uniforms for another few days anyway.

"Where is your friend Ron? Would he like to play too?"

Ron was off with Fred and George doing God knows what.

"Do you know anyone else who would like to play?"

In all honesty, he didn't know anyone yet. After all, he was nothing but a first year, and a muggle raised one at that.

"I've asked some other kids from my house if they would like to play too. We're going to make a real war of it."

Harry nodded. It was Christmas after all, a peaceful war didn't sound so bad.

* * *

"MILTON!" Harry yelled in mock agony as once again the boy had fallen against a storm of snow. 

"Noooooooooooooooo!"

"Oh shut up, Potter!" he snorted into the white fluff, "You know very well that I'm no good at this."

Harry nodded, "That is true, I should have learned my lesson when I trounced you last year with no previous snow fighting experience."

Matt crossed his arms, "Well, if you are so observant as to my flaws, why did you pick me to be on your team?"

He shrugged, "Everyone else is a first year."

"Oh, you're making me feel so much better," Milton growled into his scarf. Inside however, he was smiling. "So, you ready for Christmas dinner?"

"My stomach isn't big enough yet," Harry grinned. In response the second year beside him jabbed him with a gloved finger.

"You'll never get a bigger stomach."

"Never know," Harry tossed a snowball across the field at a scrambling Ravenclaw, "I could end up looking like a right Crabbe in my old age."

Milton covered his ears and grinned, "Do not speak of such horrors. God forbid the Golden Boy gain a pound before judgement day!"

The Gryffindor tackled his Slytherin partner, shoving him face first into the powdery earth, "You've been talking to Malfoy too much."

"Well, we can't very well be seen talking to each other outside of Christmas holiday, can we? We don't exist to each other outside of today."

Harry nodded, "Too true, Christmas is a world in and of itself."

* * *

"I'm surprised you're not in Hogsmeade," Matt said as they lay on the ground making snow angels. 

Harry shifted, changing the curves of his otherwise perfect imprint, "Yeah, well, they won't let me because of Black escaping Azkaban and all."

"Oh, you mean what you said last night at dinner?" he sat up, looking proudly at his completed work of art, "How he's after you."

Harry nodded, "McGonnogal wont let me take two steps outside the grounds."

"That's hardly fair."

"You don't have to tell me that. But, I can see where she is coming from."

"I can't," Harry turned his green eyes to look at the boy beside him, "If she keeps you here, nothing may happen to you, but then _nothing_ would happen to you."

"Trust me, she would prefer that."

"Psh," Milton snorted, "I highly doubt that." As though to prove his point, Milton picked up a snowball and tossed it lightly, watching with glee as it landed smack in the middle of Harry's face.

"YOU ARE TOAST!"

* * *

"Are you really happy here?" Matthew asked in between throws. 

Harry stopped throwing the snow and sat down, enjoying the release of tension he felt as all support slid from his bones.

"Well," the Slytherin said, plopping down beside his friend, "You seem to be stressed every year over something new. This year its the Tri-"

"Don't talk about it," Harry sighed, "It's Christmas, please don't talk about it."

"Then there's the fact that you were so far in your mind an hour ago that Snape will be giving you twenty detentions a month for the snow you somehow managed to whip into his face."

"With a nose as big as his, it was kind of hard to miss," Harry retorted.

Matthew smiled and drew swirls in the snow, "Watch it, that's my head of house you're talking about."

"There are no houses on Christmas."

Matthew just smiled and placed a comforting arm around Harry.

* * *

"Are you really leaving?" Matt asked, poking Harry's shoulder. 

Harry nodded, "Sorry, but our snowball fight is going to have to be today."

Matt picked up a chunk of snow in a sign of agreement and whipped it whole heartedly at Harry's head.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!"

"All's fair in love and war."

"Yeah," Harry snorted, "right." He got ready to retalliate, but Matt said something that made him stop his actions.

"I know that we can't say anything about certain things," he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, "But... well... I believe you. Most of the Slytherins know what you say to be true, but you know... I really do believe you. No matter what the prophet says."

Harry stared at Matt in shock, feeling the weight of all the pressure being lifted from him, leaving nothing inside to keep him sturdy. He inhaled deeply, like all boys do when they don't want to show that they're going to cry, and then gave Matt a weak but sincere smile.

"Thanks."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

* * *

"Obituary... obituary..." Harry paged through the different pages of the Prophet on Christmas morning, trying to ignore the fact that somehow, the articles were magically getting longer and more detailed in different respects.

Finally, he found his destination. It had become a pattern, finding this section and reading it, so as he pulled on his gloves so he could go out in the snow; he made sure not to misplace them this year.

"Natalie Binns, age twenty four... Zachary Swallow, age five. Oh that poor kid," he slowly scanned it, "Jasmine Lillith, eighty three... Ma-"

He dropped his glove.

"Matthew Milton... age sixteen... Died by the Killing Curse with evidence of Cruciatus on Christmas morning."

Harry shook his head, "Idiot."

That boy sure as hell should have been a Hufflepuff.

"Hey," he looked up to his house mates who were peeking over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," one of them nodded, "You know that Slytherin?"

"No," Harry shook his head.

"_My name is Matthew Milton."_

No, he didn't know that Slytherin.

"_Do you know anyone else who would like to play?"_

"Hey," he broke the silence, "Do you want to have a snowball fight? The snow looks thick enough."


End file.
